Chapter Text
"Feuilly, you did good today. I'm proud of you."
"I hate this," Feuilly said quietly, not lifting his head. "I hate coming here."
"I think we all do at first," Enjolras said, sinking into the abandoned seat at his right. "But you came. And that's something you should be proud of, Feuilly. I think she would be proud."
"Please," Feuilly raised his head, voice cracking. "Don't"
"Will you get home safe tonight?"
Feuilly sighed. "Yeah. I have to. Renee's waiting." He shook himself and stood up.
"She's lucky to have you, Feuilly. You're a good father. Good night."
"Thank you, Enjolras."
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Enjolras frowned. Sometimes it was a frown of anger. More often a frown of concern. Sometimes-very rarely- it was a frown of sadness. His friends liked to say that he could frown any emotion.
He had a permanent crease between his eyes from all the frowning.
New members of the group were always thrown off by that. Everyone expects to see frowns at a support group, but no one expects them from the leader.
"Frowning doesn't answer my question, Enj," Courf broke in, smiling sadly.
Enjolras frowned harder at him. He seemed more suited for leader. He smiled every emotion.
He was worried-smiling now.
"I don't have an opinion," he blurted, not entirely sure what he was being asked.
"You have an opinion on everything, always, sweetheart," Combferre interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Feuilly' hitting you hard, huh?"
"New people always do," Courf said, moving to sit on his other side. "It gets to me too. It's almost like reliving it through them."
"But tomorrow will be better," Combferre said, lifting his coffee cup. "Every day gets better."
Combferre wore his sleeves rolled up, a little victory shared with only one other member of their group. Enjolras had tried twice. He'd never made it more than 20 minutes.
Of course Ferre insisted that it was a completely different situation. Andre's last lie had been a simple one. "I picked it up last night." Combferre still missed him like crazy, but the words written on his forearm didn't make it any more painful.
When Enjolras looked at his arm he couldn't breathe. The last lie Gil had told had been his last words.
"Enjolras, this wasn't your fault."
Courfeyrac cleared his throat. "Enj, did we lose you again?"
"Sorry. Sorry. I just-" he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm good. I'll get there. You wanted my opinion on something?"
"The costume design I sent you last night. You forgot to look at it didn't you?"
He had forgotten. He'd opened the message to get rid of the notification and gone back to his email. "Sorry."
"You have to stop apologizing, E. We get it." Courfeyrac passed Hingis his laptop. "You can check it out now."
The design was beautiful. Courf's designs always were. But-
"I don't know that it's the right color. Didn't you use a dark green on the husband? When they stand near each other, she's gonna look washed out, no?"
"Fair point?" Courf said, pulling the laptop back and plugging in his tablet. "Maybe a peach," he muttered.
"Well, now we've lost him," Ferre sighed. "Did you know he worked on that design for a week? Finally, last night, he finishes it. Last night he shut up about it. Enjolras. Do me a favor. Next time he asks? You say 'it looks perfect, Courf.' Okay? Please?"
Enjolras smiled at that. "Have you started casting yet?"
"Yeah. We're looking at a really great group. I wish you'd audition," he added wistfully. "Get the old team back together."
"We are together. The meetings-"
"You know it's not the same."
"It'll never be the same. Not without Gil."
"Will you at least come down to auditions with me? I could use your insights?"
"Sure."